Stuffed (Patreon)

Author’s Note: I highly suggest eating until you’re about to enter a food coma and then jerking off while reading. This story is my editor’s favorite to date!

Stuffed

     This is the first time Troy is bringing a man home to meet his parents. He came out long ago and his parents accepted his queer identity. However, this is also the first time Troy is in a relationship he is serious about. There were plenty of hot lays he brought back home over the years, but no one he would let his parents meet because he knew those relationships wouldn’t last. They were mostly gym bunnies, but Troy wanted a fat man with a big appetite. He had finally found a relationship with someone who met all of his requirements: handsome, sweet, and super morbidly obese. He met you almost nine months ago at a local buffet, and now Troy finally felt comfortable inviting you to meet his family during Thanksgiving.

     He goes ahead of you with several stacked boxes of pies to greet his parents. Troy goes up to the door, opens it, and yells “We’re here!” 

     His mother runs to the door to hug her son. “Look at you, Mr. Handsome! It looks like you’re even more muscular than before. You’ve really gotten yourself in shape. I’m so proud of you!” she coos. She pushes back some of Troy’s brown hair and kisses his forehead. 

     “Thanks Mom. I love you too. Sorry that Brad couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving. At least we’re here,” he reassures his mother.

     She looks around confused, looking for you, her son’s boyfriend. She then notices a short steel ramp that must have been set up at the door by Troy. “Where is your boyfriend?,” she asks while taking the pies from him and setting them down on an entrance table. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

     Troy is muscular with the body in the shape of an upside down Dorito: a perfect v-shaped muscular torso. Everyone though he’d end up with someone as fit and athletic as him. You, by contrast, are in the shape of someone who eats endless bags of Doritos - which you do, to be fair. “He’s on his way up the driveway” says Troy as a whirring noise inches closer and closer until you’re almost at the door.

     “O-oh my...” whispers his mother as she watches you, her son’s behemoth boyfriend, roll up to the door on a bariatric power chair. She then calls for her husband for backup.

     Troy’s father joins them at the door. You’re not surprised at the shock that washes over their faces. You’re used to people staring at you in concern or even disgust. Everyone thinks you look like the type to chug Velveeta straight out of the packets - and again, they aren’t wrong. You’re wearing your best outfit, which isn’t saying much at all. This outfit is the only thing that fits, even if it doesn’t completely cover you. You’re wearing a large white shirt that looks like it could be a bedsheet for a twin bed and an enormous pair of gray sweat pants. Despite your clothes’ best effort, there’s no hiding your belly rolls spilling out of the circus tent shirt and down over your knees. Your sides bulge, squeezed against the tight seat of your mobility aid. The Big Bounder H-Frame Bariatric Power Wheelchair only has a 750-pound weight capacity. You’re not sure what your weight is at the moment, but you’re definitely close, assuming you haven’t already blown past the limit. You use the controls to move up toward the edge of the ramp on the porch.

     “Nice to finally meet you both,” you wheeze sincerely. Getting from the van into your power chair drained a lot of your energy. 

     Troy’s parents don’t want to be rude, so they introduce themselves. His mother wants you to call her Cheryl, while his father explains that his name is Daniel, but you can call him Danny. Once the flash introductions are over, you want to get inside. You start up the ramp. The device inches toward the door before hitting the frame. The power chair’s arms stick out too far for them to navigate through the frame.

     Everyone notices your dilemma, but his parents have no idea how to react since this is the first time they’ve been in such a situation. Fortunately, Troy breaks the ice: “Houston, we have a problem,” he jokes.

     “I guess that’s what happens when you try to fit a whale through a door. Maybe we can take off the detachable arms,” you suggest. 

     Troy unscrews the arms for you, giving your flesh more room to expand freely over the sides of the scooter. It’s such a relief. Once again, you try to maneuver your chair through the door. The scooter stops in its tracks as you wince, slightly pained. Your thick belly rolls and love handles are now caught in the door. The frame is much too small for such a wide man. You get red in the face as you puff and pant. “I’m stuck.”

     “I think I have an idea,” says Danny. He dashes to the kitchen and returns with multiple sticks of butter. “We can grease you up like a pig so we can push you through the front door.”

     “Honey, phrasing!” blushes Cheryl.

     “Oh, right! I’m so sorry. Please don’t take it that way. We are absolutely happy to have you here with us and I would hate if you took offense to that. I didn’t mean to imply you’re a pig just because you’re so fat. Shit, I did it again, didn’t I?” Danny embarrasses himself, tripping over his words. “There’s nothing wrong with being fat,” he continues, rubbing his own small paunch. 

     You and Troy look at each other lustily. “You’re okay, Danny. I’m well aware I’m a big guy. I’m probably much bigger than you expected. You weren’t expecting your son to be a chubby chaser,” you joke while grabbing your belly and shaking it playfully.

     His parents laugh a little less anxiously than before, starting to warm up to you. Then, Danny flips the corners of the wrapper and pulls it back to reveal the tip of the butter. “Don’t just use all of the butter! I’m going to need some of it to finish the rest of the cooking” his mom informs everyone.

     For some reason, Troy’s parents feel like everyone should butter you up, pushing your personal space boundaries. They get to work on trying to grant you your freedom by smearing butter on the exposed folds hanging out of your ill-fitting shirt. All three relatives use the butter liberally, like children using glue sticks.

     If your eyes were closed you’d still be able to tell who each pair of hands belong to based on how they grease up your gut. Cheryl’s touch is gentle and feminine. Her approach involves rubbing in small clockwise circles on your rightmost fat folds. Danny takes a different approach, rubbing the stick of butter up and down with his sizable hands. He’s much more forceful than the other two. You imagine what it would be like to be manhandled in bed by both Troy and Danny for a brief moment. The excitement of being wedged in the door makes you feel depraved enough to take your thoughts deeper and darker, fantasizing about being fucked by a father-son pair of manly men.

     You think about how Troy’s parents made the perfect man, the sensual lover. He’s a man who can do it all: make you giddy when he delicately presses your sensitive sides, but lustful when he squeezes your girth like an overblown pool float. It becomes clear to you that he’s not actually helping, but instead getting a kick from lathering your obese body with butter anywhere he can reach. It’s odd that the entire event is turning you on.

     “Alright, I think that’s enough, son” says his father while eyeballing your greased-up body. 

     Troy rushes out the back door of the house to see if he can push your chair from behind through the narrow frame. He returns right behind you and pinches one of your love handles, making you moan awkwardly in front of his parents. His parents grab both sides of your chair. On the count of three your rescue crew pushes with all their might - much more than your flabby limbs can muster - to try to get your bulk through the door frame without chipping the sides out of it. Slowly, but surely your body moves forward and pops free. Mission accomplished.

     “What a relief,” Cheryl pants.

     “Don’t be so dramatic mom. Do you want to help me get our suitcases from the van?” Troy asks.

     Just like that, they both exit the front door leaving you alone with Danny. Danny twiddles his thumbs, not sure how to continue the conversation alone. He looks at you through his tortoise glasses.

     “We are really happy to have you. Troy doesn’t bring men home, so you must be special,” Danny finally breaks the silence.

     “Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be here meeting you both,” you reply shyly.

     “So what do you do for work?” he asks. 

     The thought is hysterical to you. You don’t really work anymore, you’re much too big to manage to get around an office or do anything that causes physical labor. You’re not sure how to answer that question. He acts oblivious to your size, but also conscious of it at the same time. 

     Instead of responding, he takes your suggestive look to mean you don’t have a job. “Ah, okay, you can’t work because of your disability. I don’t mean to pry, but what kind of accident did you have? I have chronic back pain myself, but I teach at the local community college,” he inquires.

     “I didn’t have an accident. I technically draw disability checks, but I’m not really a person with a disability. I’m just fat. Really, really fat,” you say nervously as Troy and Cheryl enter the house with your bags.

     “I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to make up a guest bedroom on this floor. I made the one upstairs on the other end of the house from our side, but I’m not sure it’s, uhm, accessible. You can both stay in Troy’s old bedroom here. It should be clear, but you’ll both have to make the bed. The bed linen is in the closet. Danny, honey, can you, uh, take the door off the hinges for them to accommodate our special guest?” 

     Danny goes right to work and takes the door off the hinges with a screwdriver. It takes about five minutes - he works fast. Troy leads you to his old bedroom. Since the door is off the hinges, you’re able to roll in more easily than the front door debacle. 

     His old bedroom is fairly spartan. There are a few pictures of him as a child hung on light blue walls. You look around and see a queen size bed. You make a mental note that Troy is probably going to have to sleep on top of you, assuming the bed will hold your girth alone. The room is standard with a nightstand with a lamp, a dresser with a television, and a bookcase filled with books. The only unusual furniture is a giant glass case filled with a variety of shiny trophies. 

     “What are those for?” you ask curiously.

     “Didn’t I tell you? I was athletic in high school. I won a lot of honors and awards. In the fall semesters I played football and in the spring semesters I wrestled. I was even captain of the wrestling team senior year,” Troy winks as he goes to the closet and pulls out the bedding. He then starts to make the bed. 

     “What the fuck, Troy. I would have remembered you telling me that. Is that why you’re so good at fucking all of this?” you ask groping your belly. You look at him with a twinkle in your eye. “Are you used to pinning down heavy boys and making them helpless?” you tease.

     He comes up to you slowly. “I’m so good at fucking all that blubber because you’re just too sexy to ignore. You’re so fat you can’t even get through the door like a normal person,” he growls before kissing your thick neck and nibbling your double chins. 

     “Fuck...” you moan, shivering with anticipation.

     “Don’t squeal too much, pig. My parents aren’t too far away,” he whispers, a hint of lust in his voice. 

     You want him to take you then and there. You’re both so horny. However, the reality is that getting you out of the bariatric mobility aid, undressed, and fucked would be way too time-consuming. What would happen if you got caught? You wouldn’t even be able to jump out of bed and put clothes on, not with all that juicy, immobilizing fat hanging off your body. At home you get to take your time because of the bariatric hoyer. Here, a quick, imprecise motion may be detrimental. You and Troy agree that you can’t afford the chance of falling naked onto the floor or being caught naked and afraid. Besides, dinner is almost ready.

     “How about I give you an appetizer?” he teases you back. 

     You just nod as he pulls his pants and underwear down to his ankles. This is risky. He definitely shouldn’t be doing this without a door and with his parents down the hall. Before you know it he’s on his knees on the edge of the bed with his cock sticking straight up. You move your power chair forward until you reach the bed as much as possible. You push your head forward as far as you can, taking his thick, eight-inch cock in your mouth. You bob your head onto his cock, taking him as deep as you can.

     Troy glances at you, your tongue teasing his head. After several minutes of licking and sucking him, he moans, hushed and just barely trying to get himself under control. 

     That’s when he starts to whisper to you. “Mom is much too polite to tell you this to your face, but when we were getting the luggage she was shocked. She wasn’t prepared for her son to bring home a pig. She told me it’s a good thing you have a power chair to sit in because she’s not sure her wooden dining chairs would hold all of you.”

     He gently thrusts his hips, getting faster and more aggressive over time. “She’s really concerned about your health. It was so hot. All I could tell her was you were going through some shit. She still didn’t understand how someone could let themselves go like that. She definitely doesn’t understand how fat we’re going to make you.” He bucks his hips, getting closer to climax. “Next Thanksgiving we’ll just have to bring all the food to your bed,” he growls. He’s almost finished. 

     “Boys! I’m pulling the turkey out of the oven! Be ready to eat in ten minutes,” Cherl yells toward the bedroom, startling you both.

     “Shit,” Troy gasps, pulling out without cumming. 

     You’re insatiable - starved for cock and starved for food all at once. There’s nothing more you want in the moment than to be ravished by Troy, but food always comes first. If you could still walk without the help of a power chair, you would love to limp from the bedroom to the dining room table to show Troy’s parents how unhealthy and helpless he’s made you. Granted, they still get the point, considering their son brought home a land whale that couldn’t fit through the front door without being greased up like a pig. 

     Troy huffs, pulling his underwear and pants back up. “I’m always ready to eat,” you say. 

     Troy agrees while groping one of your many fat folds. “You sure are, pig boy. Mom’s ham isn’t the only ham I stick in my face.”

     “This isn’t fair,” you pout.

     “Eat everything you can and I’ll reward you later,” he smirks. 

     You both go down the hallway after composing yourselves. Everyone walks into the dining room -except for you, who rolls in your chair - and sits down at a table loaded with food. You survey the abundance of home-cooked food on the table: mountains of mashed potatoes, a giant pan of stuffing, the biggest ham and turkey you’ve ever seen, two baskets of rolls, buffalo macaroni and cheese, and two dozen deviled eggs. This is in addition to Troy’s veritable mountain of pies. It’s a lot of food for four people, but luckily you have the appetite of an extra four people. The options pass your visual audit, but the real test is the flavors.

     You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Growls come from your stomach and you don’t want to be rude, but damn do you need to eat. Right. Fucking. Now. You silently sigh, trying not to be rude. Danny and Cheryl’s ears perk up at the obvious auditory distress your stomach makes. 

     “All of this food looks delicious, Cheryl.” You hope the compliment smooths over the awkwardness.

     “Thank you so much. I don’t want to spend too much time because it seems everyone is really hungry this year, but I’d love it if we continued our family tradition.”

     “Oh, what’s that?” you ask. 

     “C’mon mom. Do we have to do this every year?” asks Troy reluctantly. 

     “Yes, I think it’s important because we have a lot to celebrate this year. I’m not making you say grace, but I do want to know what everyone is thankful for this year. I can go first. This year I’m thankful that we have most of our family here and our son’s boyfriend. I’m also thankful that I’ve been able to focus on my health by losing 25lbs this year.”

     “I’ll go next. I’m thankful, like Cheryl, for our wonderful family and friends. My students are the best and I have such a wonderful job,” says Danny.

     Next up is Troy. “Not to sound cliche, but I’m incredibly thankful for my supportive family that allows me to spend a holiday with my boyfriend,” says Troy squeezing your knee. 

     “I know we just met, but I’m thankful that you let me come and stay with you for Thanksgiving. Troy is the love of my life. I’m thankful for all of the food here, including those desserts,” you say during your turn. 

     Everyone starts filling up their plate, including yourself. You take heaping servings of everything, causing your plate to overflow. “Babe, is that all you’re getting?” Troy inquires. You look at your stacked plate, knowing it’s packed with more calories than everyone else’s. He has you on a mission: to eat as much as possible. Troy starts to load up a second plate for you while you shovel the food in your face quickly starting on your first. 

     “Save some for the rest of us, son,” laughs Danny.

     In a matter of minutes you finish your first plate. Everyone else has only finished about half their plate. You’re making a spectacle of yourself, shoving food in your mouth with abandon. You start the second plate Troy already made for you.

     “I don’t think you’ve got enough gravy, babe,” Troy remarks while drenching your plate with the thick, brown goop. You feel like you’re going to drench yourself, under hundreds of pounds of glorious obesity. You’ve been trained to eat so much that you pre-cum without being touched. It’s your stuffed gut pushing heavily on your fupa, making you drizzle deep in your folds. 

     He gives you that look. You know, the one he gets when you’re at home before he stuffs you with food from one end and dick from the other. How he wants to pin you down and force feed feed you stuffing, gravy, and pie. 

     Underneath the table, Troy’s left hand squeezes your lower belly. You try not to moan and pop large chunks of turkey and ham down your gullet in rapid succession with your bare hands. The food causes you to belch, making room for more. Troy’s parents are stunned at first, but try not to bring it up. Their disgusted shock is much more noticeable when the trapped gas comes out the other end with a rumbling fart while they try to eat. 

     Periodically throughout the meal you expel grunts and snorts like a starving prized pig. Troy’s parents can only just pretend to ignore it. The whole situation is sensual, and incredibly vulgar. Sometimes the fork or spoon is too small for the grub you scoop, and wonderfully fattening calories to go to waste all over your pauperized clothing. It splatters, but you don’t mind too much. You’ll just make up for the lost calories by eating more.

     For the family of three dinner ends fairly quickly. They are stuffed and content after plate number two. They occupy themselves with small talk, trying to ignore the  shameless display of uncontrolled gluttony one seat over. You’re still going at it strong. You finish two more plates full of food.

     “You have to try all the pies, hun. I know you have such a big sweet tooth,” says Troy, serving you a plate of three giant slices. In all honesty, the plate is a formality because you are in front of his parents. You both know that if it were you two alone, you’d be eating with bare hands straight from the pie tin. 

     “I’m so full,” you whine, both of your hands stretch over your protruding gut.

     “You can do it babe,” Troy encourages you.

     “It’s okay to have leftovers, Troy,” Danny informs his son.

     “There aren’t going to be any leftovers. He can do it. He loves it,” Troy tells his dad. 

     You take your fork and dig into the pie. You don’t want to disappoint or anger Troy. He’s going to reward you, so you power through with a fork. You feel like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade float, but manage each slice. He puts three more on your plate. 

     You wonder how much food they could watch you eat before enough was enough. Would they make comments about how you’re killing yourself or were they too polite to pit your mortality against your appetite? His poor parents are spectators in your feast foreplay. Troy is going to kill you with how fat he’s making you, and you’re loving it. You’re turning into a pig for the slaughter, much like the massive ham his mother made.

     Troy bites his lips hungrily. The bite disappears quickly though, so he doesn’t give himself away to his parents. There’s too much fat pushing against your sweatpants. The poor fabric is ready to burst, but at least you’re not wearing jeans. You’d have had to unbutton them two plates ago.

     “Done…!” you moan dropping your fork.

     “I’ll handle the dishes later. Danny and I are going Black Friday shopping for awhile. You know how they start on Thursday evening now. Will you two be fine alone?” Cheryl asks you both.

     “Mom, of course we will be fine. Take all the time you want. I think it might be time for a nap for us.” You just groan. Sleeping sounds nice, but you know it’s code for him fucking you senseless. You’re still somewhat excited. 

     “If you say so. It’s only a few hours,” she says, going to the hall closet and grabbing her coat. Cheryl and Danny walk out the front door.

     “You’ve made a pig of yourself. Get that fat ass to the bedroom,” Troy grabs the leftover pie and puts it all in one box.

     His wish is your command. You both make it to Troy’s childhood bedroom. For the first time since you’ve been here, you are faced with the monumental task of getting out of your chair. You struggle to stand up slightly on the scooter causing rolls of fat to drift downward. Troy slips his hand under your flab and tugs the waistband of your sweatpants. He slides down the elastic of your sweats and underwear at the same time leaving you exposed. However, your belly completely covers your dick, not that it matters anymore anyway. 

     He looks down at your underwear, seeing a damp spot of pre-cum. He shudders with excitement. pulling your shirt up next to reveal your massive tits. He rips his clothes off like they’re tearaway props. 

     You get lightheaded from standing up with the pressure of so much weight pushing down. Your knees wobble under your weight. The bed looks incredibly comfortable. Troy tries to help you keep your balance - or maybe he just wants to make it worse by weakening your knees and elevating your heart rate. You hope he has good intentions, but you both get pleasure from his help. That is if you assume helping is him squeezing your plush left hip with one hand, his other fondling your massive right ass cheek, and his throbbing hard-on teasing your hole.

     He helps you lumber towards the bed as you crash down on it. The bed sinks in heavily and creaks beneath you. You lay down on your back as the bed frame wobbles. Straddling your belly is not an option for Troy - your titanic stomach is too wide for him to be comfortable, but he can just barely fit his legs around your lymphedema-bloated thighs. His thick member grinds against your belly. 

     Troy sighs in pleasure, thrusting softly for a few seconds. Fuck, he just keeps teasing you with his dick. You want him to just fuck your belly all evening, but he has something else planned for his Thanksgiving porker. He helps you roll over onto your back.

     “Still hungry, pig?” he asks. 

     You’re still stuffed from your display of gluttony, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to be stuffed from both ends. You just moan and nod with tension in your stomach. He grins while putting the pie in front of you. The pie is in easy access with your face down, ass up. 

     Troy takes a brief moment to rub his prize: a wide, cellulite covered butt. He finds the dimples brought on by your gains erotic. First, you feel Troy’s hard muscles pressing on your back. Then, he teases your hole again with his cock.

     “If you want this inside you, you’re going to have to eat that pie. You won’t get fatter just sitting there.”

     Despite your overwhelming fullness, you know he’s right and he always gets his way. He knows just the right trigger points to coax you to eat more. Without any further hesitation you slam your face into the pie and begin to devour it. 

     Troy eagerly opens up your bouncing cheeks and pushes the tip of his member in you. You moan into the pie - your sole task in the moment is to eat for him, to get fatter for him. Each quadrant of leftovers in the tin is a different flavor: pumpkin, pecan, chocolate, and apple crumble. Your teeth shred the pie crust and fillings smear across your mouth. He goes at you with confidence and power, just as you go at the dessert.

     He starts working his cock in and out of your massive ass. You whimper with each thrust. The more he pushes in you, the more you take. It’s a slow, but steady process to stuff his big cock in you. 

     You’ve only been in your position for a few minutes, when the pressure becomes too much. You’re much too weak to keep your body up. Your arms and knees wobble before collapsing face first in the pie, reduced to a pile of dead weight on the bed, completely useless.. You’re a helpless hog and you don’t have to have any energy. Your eyes roll back into your head and you let out a guttural moan when his entire length pushes on your insides. He follows your ass downward, pounding you relentlessly 

     “What a fucking pig. I wish I could put an apple in your mouth and get your naked body on the table. Hog tie you like a roasted pig. Fuck you in your sloppy hole. The table wouldn’t be able to hold all that weight. It would collapse,” he grunts. 

     Troy plows his whole cock into you over and over again as your massive ass slams against his hips. It doesn’t take long. He gropes your love handles aggressively. "Urgh, fuck!" Troy shouts, erupting inside your fat ass. You can only moan as you’re utterly stuffed from both ends.